


Primal Urges

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jealous Dean Winchester, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-25 02:02:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: Imagine a witch putting a spell on Dean, leaving him in his most primal state, only wanting to claim you and being jealous of anyone coming near you.





	1. Chapter 1

Dean squirmed in his seat, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, your concern for him growing with every second that passed. You were starting to think that the witch’s spell had affected him after all, despite his protests to the contrary.

The two of you had been hunting a witch, a nasty one. She’d been using hex bags and a variety of spells to act out revenge on people she felt had wronged her over the years and she had not been nice about it. She seemed to come up with some of the strangest "punishments” for her victims - a hair stylist who’d given her a bad haircut gouged her own eyes out with her scissors, a car had fallen on the mechanic who had overcharged her, and by far the worst one had been her husband’s mistress. That had a been a sight you hoped to never see again. Even Dean had looked a little green at that crime scene.

Killing the witch hadn’t been easy either. She’d thrown spell after spell at the two of you, the only thing protecting you the hex bags that Sam had given you before you left the bunker. Dean had finally cornered her in the basement of her ex-husband’s house and managed to kill her, a gunshot wound to the heart. You’d been concerned about him when he’d emerged from the basement, you had been able to hear the witch screaming something in Latin at him as you’d searched the house for hex bags, but he swore he was fine.

“Hey,” you said, drawing his attention away from the road. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” he growled. “I’m just…hungry.” His eyes raked up and down your body and you knew he wasn’t talking about food.

You and Dean had an understanding of sorts. If either of you needed to let off steam and no other options were out there, than you made yourselves available to each other. It had only happened a couple of times and it had been fun, so you certainly weren’t opposed to it happening again.  

By the time Dean pulled the Impala into the bunker’s garage, the sexual tension in the car was palpable. Need seemed to be radiating off of Dean in waves, causing an answering ache in between your legs. You shoved open the car door, but before you could step out, Dean grabbed your arm and pulled you against him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled. His lips smashed against yours, his tongue probing at your lips, demanding to be let in.

By the time you managed to pull away from him, you were both panting. This was new. Dean had always been playful and teasing when you’d had sex, but this, this was hard and demanding, all of the playfulness he usually showed was gone.

“I want you,” he said, his voice thick with need.

“I…um…,” you stammered, not sure what you were going to say.

A knock on the back of the Impala startled you both. Dean released your arm and you used the opportunity to pull away from him and step out of the car.

Sam was standing by the trunk, a slight smirk on his face. “Sorry to interrupt,” he chuckled. “How’d it go?”

“Good,” you answered. You stepped toward the younger Winchester, ready to give him a hug after not seeing him for a couple of days.

Suddenly, Dean was between you, an irritated, animalistic snarl rumbling from deep in his chest. “No,” he spat, his hand splayed across Sam’s chest, stopping him from moving any closer to you.

“What the hell?” Sam grumbled. “What is your problem? I was just going to say hello.”

“Don’t touch her,” Dean barked. He shoved Sam backward, then he turned and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and running for the stairs leading from the garage.

You could see Sam sitting on the floor by the Impala, a confused look on his face as he watched his brother carry you away. You struggled to get away, but Dean was wickedly strong.

The next thing you knew, you were standing in the middle of Dean’s room, the door closed and locked behind him. He was just inches away from you, staring at you, that hunger back in his eyes. Your first instinct was to scream and yell at him, to cuss him out for the way he was acting. You leaned forward, ready to let the words fly, but you noticed something as you did, a momentary flash of confusion or uncertainty in his eyes. You decided to try a different tactic.

“Dean, what is going on?” you asked gently.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “All I know for sure is that I need you, I mean, I literally need you. My mouth is watering just looking at you, I want to taste you, to run my hands over every inch of your body and god damn it, I’m aching to be inside you.”

You took a deep, shuddering breath. Dean’s words had sent a spike of heat rolling through you.  “When did it start?” you finally managed to ask.

“In the car,” he answered. “Right after I killed the….” He stopped, looking at you, his mouth hanging open. “That bitch,” he finally growled.

“She hit you with a spell, didn’t she?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I think I dropped my hex bag Sam made me somewhere, fell out of my pocket or something. Whatever the hell she was muttering in Latin must have been a spell.”

“Okay, I’ll go get Sam. We need his help to figure it out,” you said. “He can look up….”

Dean immediately tensed, his head shaking from side to side. “No,” he snapped. “No way. I don’t want him near you.”

“Dean….” you murmured, trying to step around him.

“I said no,” he growled again. He grabbed your upper arms and yanked you to him. He pressed his mouth to yours, biting and sucking at your lower lip until your mouth opened and then his tongue was in your mouth, licking over your teeth, exploring every inch.

You raised your arms, grabbing Dean’s waist, trying to pull him closer, anything to appease the want suddenly running through you. But you didn’t get the chance, because he was tearing at your clothes, pulling them from your body as he pushed you toward the bed. Your shirt hit the floor, then your bra.

Dean lowered you to the bed, nuzzling your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth, his hand cupped around your sex as he rubbed your aching core through your jeans. He fumbled at the button and then the zipper, yanking them open. Once he had your pants open, he hooked his fingers in the waistband, yanking them and your sensible black panties down until he was stopped by your boots. He cursed under his breath as he stood up and pulled them off, tossing them over his shoulder one by one, before he finished removing your clothes. Once you were completely naked in front of him, he pushed your legs apart, kneeling between them. He ran his hands up and down your thighs, his body seeming to hum with need.

Dean leaned over you, kissing his way down your stomach until he reached your swollen clit. His tongue darted out and lightly flicked it. Your hands clenched the blanket underneath you and your hips came off the bed, a moan falling from your lips.

The moan seemed to set something off in Dean. He buried himself between your legs, his tongue deep inside you, his nose brushing your clit. When your hips came off the bed a second time, he pushed you down, holding you in place while he devoured you. He was relentless, his tongue repeatedly licking up and down your folds, flattening out as he swept it across your clit. He pushed a finger in alongside his tongue, moving them in tandem. You grabbed his head, holding him tight against you, needy whimpers the only sounds you could make as his tongue worked its magic.

Every inch of you was trembling, heat blasting through your body, your breath tearing in and out of your throat, and you hadn’t even come yet. You’d never felt anything like this, the sensations rolling through you were unbelievable.

“Dean, please,” you moaned. “I need to….” Your words were cut off as Dean’s finger suddenly moved, crooking just right and you were gone. Your eyes squeezed shut as pure bliss blasted through you, every nerve ending screaming in ecstasy, the whole world narrowed to what Dean was doing to you with his mouth and fingers.

When Dean finally moved away, you were a boneless mess, barely able to move. You finally opened your eyes and saw that he was rapidly stripping out of his clothes, his cock standing at attention, curving up against his tight stomach muscles. He picked you up effortlessly, planting a bruising kiss on your mouth, before he flipped you to your stomach and crawled back on to the bed. He wrapped his arm around your waist, using his other hand to guide himself to your dripping entrance and then he was entering you from behind, slamming into you with a loud grunt. He bottomed out and then he was moving, his hips pumping relentlessly.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled, the sound primal and animalistic. Both of his arms were wrapped around you, one around your waist, the other grasping your breast, pinching and twisting the nipple as he thrust into you.

Dean set a bruising pace, slamming into you over and over, each stroke harder than the last. You hadn’t thought it was possible, not after the orgasm you’d just had, but you felt the familiar tightening in your stomach as Dean’s thrusts became harder and more erratic. He pushed you forward until you were resting on your elbows, his hands on your hips, and at this angle, every thrust hit your g-spot and it wasn’t long before you were coming again, screaming Dean’s name.

He didn’t let up, his hips pistoning as he pumped in and out of you, skin slapping against skin, and then he was coming with an almost feral snarl, his cock twitching as he emptied his seed into you, his hands so tight on your hips you knew you’d have bruises the next day.

The two of you collapsed to the bed, Dean sprawled across your back. He sucked at your neck, marking you, as he ran his hands up and down your body. He moved his lips to your ear, sucking at the lobe.

“Still want to get Sam?” he murmured in your ear, his hot breath blowing across your skin.

“Hell, no,” you giggled.

“I didn’t think so,” he growled, moving you so you were staring up at him. He kissed you until you were breathless and you felt him hardening again against your leg. “Because I’m not done with you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Somehow you managed to slide yourself out from under Dean without waking him up. You tiptoed around the room, trying to find your clothes, but you couldn’t find everything in the dark. You finally settled on your t-shirt and a pair of Dean’s gym shorts you’d found lying over a chair. You had to double knot them to keep them from falling down and they hung below your knees, but at least you had on clothes.

Once you were dressed, you put your hand on the doorknob, turning it as quietly as possible. You practically jumped out of your skin when it clicked open, your eyes immediately going to Dean’s sleeping form, praying you hadn’t woke him up. You waited, watching for any sign of movement from him and when you didn’t see any, you opened the door as slowly as possible, wary of every squeak and groan. You opened it just far enough for you to squeeze out and then you were running down the bunker hallway, your bare feet slapping on the floor.

You found Sam in the library, his laptop open in front of him and a pissed off look on his face.

“Y/N,” he said, sitting up in his chair when you walked in. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answered. “But Dean’s not.”

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched. “Yeah, he’s an asshole,” Sam grumbled, turning back to his laptop. “A possessive asshole.”

“Sam, please listen to me,” you begged, drawing his attention back to you. “The witch he and I were hunting, she hit him with some kind of spell. I don’t know what it is for sure, but it’s making him act like that. I’m still trying to figure it out, but I need your help.”

“But you guys had hex bags…” Sam said.

“I know, but Dean lost his. The witch was chanting something in Latin when he killed her, so it had to have been a spell,” you explained.

“So that’s why he picked you up and ran off with you? Why he’s acting like he owns you?” he asked. “Because of the spell?”

“Near as I can figure,” you shrugged. “All I know is he doesn’t want you anywhere near me, and he said he….” You blew out a breath, suddenly embarrassed by what you were about to say. You took a step back and stared at a spot over the top of Sam’s head. “He said he needs me, that he aches to be inside me.”

Sam blushed, an uncomfortable look you couldn’t quite read on his face. “Okay, so it’s some kind of sex spell?” Sam mumbled, obviously talking to himself.  Suddenly, he stood up, his chair flying backward and hitting the floor. “He’s not hurting you, is he?” he asked.

“No!” you protested. “Trust me, he is not hurting me.” Now it was your turn to blush. “Will you please start looking for spells that involve jealousy and sexual need? See if you can figure out what it is so we can figure out how to reverse it.” You turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked. “Stay here and help me.”

“I can’t, Sam,” you replied. “Dean is still asleep, but I need to get back to him before he wakes up. He doesn’t want me near you, remember?” You turned back to look at him as you ran from the library. “Hurry up!”

You managed to make it back to Dean’s room just as he was coming awake. You closed the door, clicking it into place as quietly as possible, before taking several steps into the room. He pushed himself up and looked at you over his shoulder.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“Food,” you muttered, saying the first thing that popped into your head. “I’m hungry.”

“That’s a great idea,” he said, pushing himself off the bed. “I’ll go with you.” He grabbed his jeans from the floor and pulled them on, leaving the top button undone. He eyed you up and down. “You look good in my shorts,” he grinned.

Dean actually seemed to be acting normal, no jealousy or overwhelming need for sex seemed to be emanating from him at all. Maybe it had been a short-lived spell or the effects had worn off.  He took your hand and gently tugged you down the hall towards the kitchen. The two of you made a couple of sandwiches and grabbed some water from the fridge, settling yourselves at the small table against the wall.

You had just finished eating and you were helping Dean clean things up, when Sam strolled into the kitchen, his nose buried in some book. He practically ran right into you. You both looked up just as the low snarl came from Dean and he stepped between you and Sam.

The younger Winchester stepped back in surprise. “Whoa, whoa,” he mumbled. “Just after some water.”

You grabbed a bottle of water from the table and tossed it to Sam. He grabbed it and backed out of the kitchen, not taking his eyes off of his brother. Dean didn’t move until Sam was out of the kitchen and you could hear his footsteps trailing away as he returned to the library.

You reached out and put your hand on Dean’s back, feeling the tense, taut muscles above the waistband of his jeans. He swung around, took your arm and pulled you to him, his lips smashing into yours.

“Dean, your brother isn’t going to hurt me,” you said between kisses. “You don’t have to protect me from him.”

“I know he won’t hurt you,” he replied. “But you’re mine and he’s not coming near you.” He was tugging at your clothes as he spoke, untying the strings holding his shorts around your waist. Once he had the knot undone, he shoved them down, drawing a gasp from you as the cold air hit your naked skin.

You didn’t have time to even think about what Dean had just said, because he was picking you up and setting you on the edge of the small kitchen table. “Dean, what are you doing?” you breathed, very aware that you were practically naked, in the bunker’s kitchen and Sam was just down the hall in another room.

“You’re mine,” he growled as he stepped between your legs, one hand kneading your breast through the t-shirt you still wore and the other running up and down your thigh. You gasped again when Dean’s fingers entered you, your back arching as he thrust them into you. He fumbled with the zipper on his jeans, pushing them down just far enough to free his erection and then he was entering you with a desperate grunt, his hands gripping your bottom as he pushed into you. He held you tight against him, his hips barely moving as he pumped into you with tight, even thrusts. He kissed you, his tongue stabbing in and out of your mouth.

The way Dean was holding you, coupled with his short, tight thrusts put unbelievable pressure on your clit, the best kind of pressure. You whimpered, not sure you could handle another climax, but it wasn’t long before you were screaming your release, the orgasm slamming into you. Dean followed right behind as you clenched around him, his loud groan reverberating through the kitchen.

You leaned against Dean’s chest, trying to catch your breath. He lifted you off the table and set you on your feet. He pulled his jeans back up and then grabbed his shorts from the floor and handed them to you. He waited until you had them on, then he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you hard on the lips.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice deep and gruff.

You nodded. “Yeah,” you answered. “But what the hell was that?” You gestured toward the table as you spoke.

“I don’t know,” Dean shrugged. “I was fine, until Sam walked into the room. And then it was like this wave crashed over me and all I could think about was making sure I claimed you as mine. And that need I told you about before, it was back. It was pulsing through me, pushing me to take you. I don’t know, it’s crazy, right?”

“Yeah, it is,” you replied. “We need to figure this out. Can you remember at all what the witch said? Anything?”

Dean shook his head, his brow furrowed as he concentrated. “I remember a few words,” he finally said.  “Um…zelus, cupiditas…. I know she said the word for curse, maledictionem. There was something else, I think it was exitiabilis, uh, opus and purgare. I’m sure other stuff I can’t remember. I was too busy trying to kill her to really pay attention to what she was saying. Besides, I thought I had my hex bag, so I wasn’t really that concerned.”

“Well, you should have been,” you huffed. “Now look what’s happened.”

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’d like to say I’m sorry, but I kind of like this curse.” He took your face in his hands and kissed you, hard.

“Dean…” you grumbled.

“I know,” he muttered. “Not funny. We’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll go tell Sam what you heard,” you said. “It might help him if he knows what the witch said.”

Dean grabbed your arm as you walked past him. “No,” he said. “I won’t let you.” He took a deep breath. “I…can’t…let you.” He shifted from foot to foot, running his hands through his short, spiky hair. “Just the thought of letting him anywhere near you makes me want to beat the shit out of him and fuck you senseless.” His mouth snapped shut. His hand rubbed over the back of his neck. “Shit, sorry,” he mumbled.

“But….” you started, but you cut yourself off when you saw his face. He was desperately trying to resist the urges the curse was bringing to the surface, his face twisting and contorting as he fought it.

“Okay, okay,” you said softly. You took his hand in yours. “We’ll go back to your room and I’ll text it to him.”

Dean nodded, pulling you into his arms, holding you against his body. He walked you through the bunker, avoiding the library, taking the long way around through the hallways. Once he had you inside his room, he locked the door and pushed you against the wall. He lips found yours, kissing you yet again. Every kiss was a way for Dean to mark you, to claim you as his and he was doing just that. You finally put your hands on his chest and pushed him away.

“Dean, stop, let me breathe for five minutes,” you begged.

He stepped back, releasing you. You stepped around him and grabbed your phone from your jeans. You quickly texted Sam what Dean had heard the witch say, then tossed your phone to the table.

“Now what?” Dean asked.

“Now we wait,” you shrugged.

* * *

You ended up waiting for three days. Three days that Sam and Dean had to avoid each other, three days that kept you practically tethered to Dean, three days that seemed to stretch into a lifetime. By the end of the third day, you were contemplating temporarily leaving the bunker so that the brothers wouldn’t kill each other.

The first day, you stayed in Dean’s room with him, watching television, reading, even playing about a million hands of cribbage, anything to keep him occupied. But every couple of hours, a  change would come over him. He’d start shifting in his seat, licking his lips and running his hands over the back of his neck, watching you, analyzing every move you made. Not long after that, Dean would be all over you, his hands and his lips everywhere, sex the only thing on his mind, the only thing he could think about.

Hours and hours later, Dean finally dozed off, sleeping so hard that he didn’t even move. You’d wanted nothing more than to join him. You were drained, physically and emotionally. Who knew having a multitude of orgasms in one day would take that much out of a person? But you needed to talk to Sam.

You managed to sneak out of the bedroom without waking the elder Winchester, hurrying down the hall to the library. Sam was buried behind a pile of books, scribbling madly on a yellow legal pad. You cleared your throat to get his attention.

“Y/N, what the hell?” he grumbled, looking past you down the hall. “Where’s Dean?”

“Asleep, but I don’t know for how long,” you replied. “Find anything?”

“I translated the Latin,” he’d shrugged. “Um, let’s see….” He dug through the piles of paper on the table before finally finding one and reading from it. “Okay, jealousy, lust, curse - which we knew, fatal, need and cleanse or purge.”

“Did you say fatal?” you whispered, horrified at the implication.

“Yeah,” he answered. He ran his hands through his long, brown hair, sighing in frustration. “If I can’t figure out how to reverse it or purge it from him, then it’s fatal.” He looked at you, his hazel eyes huge and scared. “It’ll kill him.”

You nodded, not sure what to say or even do. You picked up a book from the table, then immediately dropped it again. “Okay,” you murmured. “Just, you know, keep me posted.” You hurried back down the hall, slipping into the room, then into the bed next to Dean, pulling his arm around you. You weren’t about to let anything happen to him.

The next two days were a lot like the first. The couple of times both you and Dean had ventured from the room, you’d had to physically separate the boys, which hadn’t been easy. Sam couldn’t even look in your direction without it setting off Dean. You’d eventually started texting Sam that you were coming out, so he could lock himself in his room. It seemed to help, a little. It was nearly as bad as the times you left the room to talk to Sam alone. Dean would stand just inside his door and the second you were back inside the room, he’d pull you against him, kissing you and touching you, before once again having sex with you.  

“I can smell him all over you,” he’d snarl. It didn’t matter if you hadn’t gone anywhere near Sam, it was always the same.

By the time the third day rolled around, both you and Dean were exhausted. He’d had to resort to nothing more than kissing you, which was not enough for him, so he had to keep you with him constantly. You’d lugged as many lore books as possible into his room and you’d both spent hours reading and rereading them, hoping to find something to cure him.

All of this time you’d spent with Dean had changed things for you. Drastically. You’d gone from ‘friends with benefits’ to something more. You were starting to feel things for Dean that you’d never felt for anyone ever before. You had no idea if he felt the same though or if it was just you. And thanks to the stupid spell the witch had cast, you had no idea how Dean really felt. You couldn’t get past the possessiveness and his constant need to claim you as his to his real feelings. That would have to wait until the spell was reversed.

Late in the evening of the third day, the two of you finally fell asleep, with you nestled against Dean’s chest, one of his arms protectively wrapped around your waist, his hand twisted in your hair, holding you to him. You were pulled awake by the incessant ringing of your cell phone. You squirmed out of Dean’s grasp and grabbed it from the table by the bed.

“What?” you grumbled.

“I got it, Y/N,” Sam hooted. “I figured out how to reverse the spell.”

You sat up, waking Dean as you did. “You found it?” you asked. “What do we need to do?”

“I have to come in there,” Sam said. “So, we need to keep Dean from killing me.”

“What else?” you inquired.

“I have everything we need, it’s ready, just…” Sam took a deep breath. “Just try to keep my brother from trying to kick my ass because I’m in the same room as you.” He disconnected the call.

“I heard him,” Dean mumbled, climbing off of the bed. He threw on his clothes and sat on the end of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees.

You stepped between his legs and took his head in your hands. You leaned down and kissed him.

“How much are you going to hate me now that this is over?” he murmured, his green eyes staring into yours. “The way I’ve acted, how I’ve treated you…and my brother…I…how can you even want to be around me after this?”

“Dean…I….” A knock at the door interrupted you, then Sam stuck his head in.

“Ready?” Sam asked.

Dean’s hands fisted in the blankets on the bed and his brow furrowed in concentration. He nodded, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m ready.”

Sam stayed by the door and Dean on the bed, while you stood between them, ready to intervene if necessary. Sam started chanting, the Latin falling easily from his lips. He pulled a hex bag from the pocket of his jeans and tossed it at his brother who caught it easily, just as Sam finished the spell. The lights in the room dimmed briefly and then that was it.

The three of you stared at each other, no one quite sure what to do or if it had even worked.

“Well?” you finally asked. “Did it work?”

The brothers shrugged simultaneously, an annoying habit they had that drove you slightly crazy. You looked between them, but you weren’t sure; Dean was still clutching the blankets with a slightly wild look in his eyes, his eyes darting back and forth between you and his brother.

“Screw it,” you mumbled, then you hurriedly grabbed Sam’s hand, stood on your tiptoes and kissed him, on the mouth. He stepped back in surprise and fumbled for the door behind him.

You turned around, expecting to have to stop Dean from launching himself at his brother, but he was still sitting on the bed. He released the blankets and stood up.

“I’m good,” he said, but you saw a flash of something in his eyes, something familiar. “No overwhelming desire to kick Sam’s ass,” he chuckled. “It’s over.”

It seemed like all of the air was suddenly let out of the room. You smiled, even though you weren’t sure you felt like it. You were glad Dean was no longer cursed, but now things would go back to the way they’d been and you weren’t sure you could handle that. Not when you knew you were falling in love with him.

“Good,” you whispered. “I’m…glad…relieved, whatever.” You shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. “I’m…uh, just gonna…uh, shower and, um, sleep for a…week or so.” You laughed, the sound ringing false in your own ears. “Later.” You yanked the door open and stepped into the hallway. You could hear Sam and Dean talking, heartfelt apologies from Dean and understanding sympathy from Sam. You smiled to yourself. At least they were okay.

* * *

It had been nearly a week since Dean had been cured. The two of you had avoided each other like you both had the plague or something. You didn’t know what to say to him and it was obvious he didn’t know what to say to you. You couldn’t exactly tell him you’d fallen in love with him when he’d been under a spell that made him want to screw your brains out. And he probably felt guilty about taking advantage of you. So you hid in your room and kept to yourself. You’d get over him, you just needed time.

The knock on your door at two in the morning took you by surprise. You stood in front of it for a full minute, trying to decide whether or not to open it. Another knock startled you into action. You opened it just a couple of inches to see Dean standing on the other side.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “You weren’t sleeping, were you? I saw your light, so I thought…”

“No,” you replied. “I was awake.”

“Can I come in?” he asked.

You opened the door all the way and gestured for him to come in. He stepped inside and you let the door swing closed. The two of you stood in the center of the room, staring awkwardly at each other for several seconds.

Dean finally cleared his throat. “Look, Y/N, I came to apologize to you,” he said. “You didn’t have to do what you did, staying with me, the sex….”

“It was no big deal,” you shrugged.

“But it was a big deal,” Dean insisted. “The things I made you do, how I acted. I was a jerk, possessive, forcing you to have sex with me.”

“Dean, knock it off,” you snapped. “You didn’t force me to do anything, I was perfectly willing. If I hadn’t been, well, trust me, you would have known it.”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, you’re right,” he laughed. “You would have kicked my ass if I’d tried anything you didn’t want. But, I did take advantage of our friendship, probably screwed it up for good.”

You started shaking your head before Dean had finished talking. “No,” you muttered. “You didn’t screw it up.”

“But things are different,” he said. “And something is wrong. You won’t talk to me, you won’t even look at me. I want to make it right. Tell me how to fix it so we can be friends again.”

“I don’t want to be friends!” you barked.

Dean recoiled as if you’d slapped him. He took two steps backward, reaching for the door. “Alright, I understand,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” He opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

None of this was working out the way you wanted. Everything you were saying was coming out wrong. If you didn’t fix this right now, then it would never get fixed.

“I love you,” you blurted out, stopping Dean in his tracks.

“What?” he said as he turned around. “Did you just say you love me?”

You shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, so?” you snarled, immediately on the defensive. “Is that a problem for you?” You struggled not to cry, desperately trying to keep yourself under control.

“No,” he shot back. He stepped back into your room and pushed the door shut. “You know why? Because I think I love you too!”

The two of you came together in the center of your room, hesitant at first, neither of you sure how you should act. Dean reached out and took your hand, intertwining your fingers together. He leaned over and kissed you gently. This was a side of him you hadn’t yet experienced. He slipped an arm around your waist and hugged you to his chest, his lips ghosting over your neck.

You sighed and let yourself melt into him, let him hold you in his strong arms. He moved slowly, carefully, almost as if he was afraid he would break you. It was so different from what you’d grown accustomed to. And you loved it.

Dean moved to the bed, sitting you in his lap, his hands running up and down your back. You faced him, one leg on either side of his hips, your hands around the back of his neck. You kissed him, reveling in his gentle touch. He laid back on the bed, pulling you with him. He rolled to his side, taking you with him. He sat up slightly, leaning on one arm and stared into your eyes.

“We’re good?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, we’re good,” you replied. “Better than good.”

He rubbed his thumb over your cheek and across your lips before kissing you again. “No tricks, no spells, just you and me,” he said. “We’ll make it work, no matter what.” Another kiss. You felt a tear slide down your cheek. Dean wiped it away.

“Hey, no tears,” he whispered. “Remember, we’re good. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded. You pulled him down to kiss you. “I love you.”

Dean leaned his forehead against yours. “I love you, too,” he murmured.


End file.
